Hurricane Force
by Usher
Summary: As the remnants of Hurricane Mitchell batters an oil rig off the coast of Scotland, the Tracy family learn just how dangerous the rescue business can be.


Jeff clung to the floor of the pod as it dangled far below the belly of Thunderbird 2, swaying madly in the hurricane force winds as not too far below it, waves eight and nine story's high crashed against the body of the oil rig.

"**Virgil, bring me down again! He's still on it! The platform we were standing on gave way before he could get on!"**

Up in the cockpit, Virgil's eyes widened as he struggled to keep the gigantic craft aloft. Wrestling with the controls he shook his head.

"**That is a negative, commander. I can't bring TB2 down that low again. The waves are generating massive air currents, and the updraft from the fire isn't helping. If I try to bring her down again on this side we'll be the ones needing rescuing."**

Jeff bit back a curse and slammed against the side of the rescue pod as it was buffeted by another hard gust of wind.

There was a crackle in his earpiece and Alan's voice appeared, faint but thankfully steady.

"**I hear you Virg. I'm moving around to the northwest side…where the helicopter pad is. Would appreciate a lift. It's getting a little hot in here." **

Virgil blew out a loud breath and touched his ear piece.

"**FAB Alan. Are you hurt?"**

There was a bit of a pause before the reply came. "**I wrenched my shoulder pretty bad when I hit the deck, my head feels like Gordon's been playing the drums in it and my helmet's got a crack the size of the San Andreas fault. But other than that I'll be ok. As long as you pick me up before this place blows. They've been stacking barrels up here and they are leaking. I thought they weren't supposed to store fuel on these rigs."**

His voice was breathless as he ran as fast as he could, ducking around twisted metal that used to be the internal structure of the oil rig. A stabbing pain in his side told him that he'd also done something to his ribs, but that was something he didn't want to worry his dad about. There's be enough time for that later.

"**Alan, we're in position. What's your ETA?"**

Back on the mainland at mobile control, Scott was listening anxiously to the radio chatter, holding his hand up to command silence from the police chief, and the Head of the Coast Guard.

"What's wrong?" Jake Mitchells asked carefully.

Scott spared him a glance, keeping his eyes fixed on the video being transmitted by TB2. As he replied, he hit the speaker button so that everyone could hear. "One of our men didn't make it back into the rescue pod when they went to pick them up. The platform gave way before he managed to get on. He's trying to find another place to-"

"**SHIT!**" Thunderbird 2 shot upwards, narrowly missing the plume of flames that erupted from directly beneath the helicopter pad. Jeff cowered back from the flames that licked around him, shielding his face from the glare.

"**Alan, move back! Go back. We'll have to find another way. The secondary pipeline has ruptured. You're walking right into a fireball."**

Scott's eyes narrowed as his ears registered a faint 'no shit Sherlock' before Alan replied slightly louder "**FAB Virgil. Any ideas where to go next?"**

Virgil scanned the wreckage in front of him and shook his head. Before he could answer, Scott's voice came over the earpieces.

"**There's a crane at the southern edge of the platform. From the sensors the top of the platform is on fire, but the lower levels haven't caught yet. That's your best bet, Sprout." **Scott followed the little red dot on the screen that was Alan's tracking beacon and nodded as it began to move in a different direction.

"**FAB…and don't call me SPROUT!"**

Even though the situation was serious, Scott managed a small smirk at his brother's exasperated exclamation.

"Inside joke." Scott explained carefully. "He's the youngest member of the team. He doesn't like it much."

Jake nodded, remembering when he was the youngest. "And you remind him of it as much as possible, of course."

"Of course."

Everyone fell silent as the moment dragged on and Alan's voice came yet again over the airways. "**Commander…could you everyone I love them?**"

The commander's voce sounded shaky as he replied and Matt and Jake shared an anxious look.

"**Don't talk like that Alan. You'll be at the crane in a few minutes and we'll have you up here in a jiffy."**

"**Yessir, I fully understand that. Only it's getting kind of hot down here…the flames are eating through the upper deck and I'm on top of what looks suspiciously like an oil pipe that hasn't blown yet."**

"**Just keep running. You are almost there." **Jeff warned him, his nails digging into the fabric of his flame resistant gloves.

"**FAB…" **suddenly there was a sharp intake of breath and a hurried "**I love you da-****."** A split second later the sky filled with light as the rig was engulfed in a gigantic fireball.

Scott dragged in a sharp breath as the red blip on his screen that showed Alan's movements winked off. He dragged his eyes from the screen and looked at the men now clustered close around them. "He could still be…"

Onshore, the cluster of reporters who had eagerly been following events turned in shock to the speakers of the van owned by the technician that had been able to tap into the communications link up while the cameras stayed trained on the inferno. There was a long stunned silence before the speaker jumped to life again.

"**Tell me you got him Virgil.**" An authoritative voice crackled over the static.

"**That's a negative, Scott…we didn't…he's…oh god…he's still on it…Commander, are you still with us…?"**

Jeff clutched the edge of the pod, staring down at the flames in the darkness. "Alan…" he whispered in shock, oblivious to the clamour of voices in his ear pieces, all demanding to know if he was ok.

"**Virgil…go around…slowly. He might have made it to the sea."**

Virgil, his hands shaking, blinked back the tears and nodded, adding a shaky "**FAB Scott**" even though he knew that Alan hadn't had a chance.

In the belly of TB2, Gordon sat heavily on the ground, his face pale under the half-visor of his helmet. One of the rig workers poured him a cup of water and knelt in front of him. "Drink this." He ordered, putting it to his lips. Gordon drank automatically, lost in shock. "What's wrong?"

Unlike the others on shore, he couldn't hear the frantic chatter over the air waves, and only had Gordon's hurried sentences to explain why they hadn't landed yet and were being thrown around like skittles in a box.

"The…uh…the rig blew…Alan is still on it…" Gordon managed finally. The rig workers shared a devastated look, remembering the young man that had helped each one from the platform into the Pod. When the last man had entered, they realised that the pod was full, and he and the other operative had let Gordon go up with them, hanging back until the pod was sent back down.

OOOoooOOO

Tin Tin stared at the command console, her eyes unseeing. Kyrano approached the open door with a pot of coffee, a smile on his face that was completely wiped away when he saw the stunned look on her face. A quick glance at Brains showed the man had the same expression, frozen in shocked disbelief.

"Daughter, what is the matter?" He set the tray down carefully before hurrying to her side.

"Alan…oh, father, it's Alan!" She whirled around and buried her head in her father's chest, seeking comfort from him.

"Master Hackenbacker?" Kyrano asked fearfully.

Brains lifted tear filled eyes and said perfectly without stammering, "Kyrano…Alan didn't make it off of the Oil Platform before it blew up. He's missing." Even he couldn't bring himself to say that the boy was gone.

OOOoooOOO

The Coast Guard chopper circled, it's engines struggling to compete with the gale force winds. Everyone on board was silent as they scanned the inky black water looking for the International Rescue man. Each one knew that it could have been them down in the water, if it hadn't been for IR. And they also knew that they wouldn't have been able to evacuate all the men from the rig in time. And each one knew in their hearts that the man was dead.

"HQ are ordering us back, sir. What do we do, Captain?" The pilot asked finally, breaking the unnerving silence.

"How much fuel do we have?" The captain asked, keeping his eyes on the water the searchlight was hitting.

"Another three hours."

"When we hit bingo fuel we turn back. We owe him that much…we owe his family."

OOOoooOOO

"This is Clarice Richards for World Wide News reporting to you little under half a mile from the still smouldering remains of the Wiston Oil Platform. As you can see behind me, the International Rescue craft, along with Air & Sea Rescue, Army and Navy helicopters are all still searching the water for the missing International Rescue man. It has now been five hours since the oil rig exploded and dawn is fast approaching. Rescuers are hopeful that the added light will aid them in locating the body of their fallen comrade. Sources state that they do not expect to find him alive due to the circumstances surrounding-"

Penny turned off the television, her eyes watery. A call from Kyrano had woken Parker out of a sound sleep, and the Malaysian had tearfully relayed the entire scenario to the Lady's butler/chauffer/bodyguard/friend. Parker had sat, dumbfounded on the edge of his bed for almost half an hour, IR Communicator in hand before he wiped his eyes and silently made his way through the mansion to Lady Penelope's rooms.

Penny had blinked at him, bleary eyed over her shoulder, her hair rumpled and sleepily asked, "What's wrong?"

She hadn't expected his answer. Or been prepared. Now sitting in her dressing robe, she lowered her face into her hands and stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, Parker standing mutely behind her, a look of stricken grief on his normally stoic face.

Finally, she straightened and asked, "Has there been any word from the island?"

Parker stepped closer and was surprised when she patted the couch beside her, inviting him to sit down.

"No M'lady. Kyrano said he would contact us if we were needed. Mr. Tracy and the boys are going to stay out there as long as it takes to find him. Bring him home. He said…he said…he said that they would most likely bury him next to his mother."

He put a fatherly arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as she finally began to cry.

OOOoooOOO

It was light. That was the first thing that struck him as he swam back into consciousness. It was light and he was lying on something. And he was wet. Very wet. His eyes snapped fully open as his last waking moments came back to him. He knew he would never forget the sight of the huge wave coming straight for him as he jumped from the platform, or the searing heat of the flames at his back. Muzzily, his brain fought to resume normal working order and then his senses came back with a vengeance when he tried to move. Oh yeah. Definitely broke something in his fiery plunge into the sea. Lucky it wasn't his head. Trying to move his body, he corrected that thought. Probably wasn't his head. Lucky that the wave had been were it was, too. If he hadn't hit it there and then, he would have fallen a hell of a lot further. And the impact with the surface of the water would have killed him. Getting a mental grip, he forced himself to his knees and looked around.

He was on a deserted rocky beach, the waves crashing hard against the rocks to either side of him. It was a miracle he hadn't hit them on his way to shore. If he had…he didn't bother finishing that thought. It wasn't worth it.

Taking a deep breath, mindful of the pain in his ribs, he staggered towards the break in the sand dunes.

'At least I'm in England.' He thought to himself. 'I can speak the language.'

The break in the dunes led to a dirt track and he smiled grimly. At least he wouldn't have to slog through fields to find help. One glance up at the grey sky made him pick up his pace. It was probably going to rain again. A couple of yards down the road, he slowed down, chuckling wryly to himself. A bit of rain wouldn't kill him. Not after the dunking he'd just gotten. And it wasn't like he could get any wetter, either.

OOOoooOOO

Orbiting the earth, John Tracy was curled up in a ball on the floor of the small bathroom in the space station, weeping hard. Scott had finally ordered him to take a break, cutting the transmission from his end. When the line had gone dead, John had staggered towards the bathroom and thrown up everything he had eaten in the past day. His brother. His baby brother…

OOOoooOOO

Scott tiredly sat down beside Virgil and pushed a mug of coffee at him, trying to ignore the obvious shake in his younger brother's hands as he gripped it tightly.

"Three more minutes." Virgil murmured softly. "That's all it would have taken. Three minutes and he would have been on the pod and we would have been gone. Three…"

Scott nodded, forcing back the tears. "I know, Virgil. I know." Both men looked over at their father who was staring blankly into the distance, the two halves of Alans helmet in his hands. It had been fished out of the water several hours earlier and Jeff hadn't let go of them since. He'd been like that since they had winched the pod up. Gordon had wrapped a thermal blanket around his shoulders and when they had landed, had insisted that the medics look him over. Now, Jeff's second youngest son sat mutely beside his father, not having said a word in hours.

A member of the Coast Guard approached and caught Scott's eye, beckoning him over. The only one of the group that seemed to be keeping it together was the man who had been barking orders and taking control of the situation. Not that the man blamed the rest. They seemed to be a tight-knit team, and losing one of your own could be devastating.

"Mr…uh…"

"Scott. Call me Scott." Scott advised gently.

"Scott, they aren't calling off the search just yet, but the choppers have to go back to refuel. The men are going to take a quick break and then they will get straight back out there. The seas have calmed down quite a bit now so the boats are being launched. They are trying to organise volunteers to search of the shoreline, but the storm basically took out all the phone services last night, cellular and land lines. The utility companies are trying to restore service…Don't worry. We're doing our best to find your man."

Scott shook his head grimly. "It's ok, sir. I understand…" They shared a look that showed they both knew what the outcome of the search would be and the man nodded, stepping back. "I'll leave you to your rest. Call us if you need anything. Anything at all." He gestured to where several men and women stood, anxiously scanning the water with binoculars.

Back inside one of the tents that had hastily been erected for the search, Scott sat back down beside Virgil, losing himself in his own flood of thoughts. He felt like his own child had been ripped away from him. He had practically raised Alan and their brothers for several years while his father got over his grief at losing his wife, their mother, and again, when he had begun to build his business empire. Finally, when International Rescue had been set up, Alan had been at boarding school, leaving the raising to teachers and dorm mother's and father's. Strangers had taken over the bulk of parenting from them, but Alan was a home bird. Always had been. And he had hero worshiped his big brothers. Since the closest in age to him was nearly six years older, it had been hard not to. And now he was gone…

OOOoooOOO

Approaching another track, Alan finally looked at himself objectively and began to think clearly. Like an International Rescue Agent. Step 1. Remove all logo's and marks that would identify him as a member of International Rescue. Well, his helmet was gone, lost to the North Sea. His IR pin was easily removed and stowed in his pocket. The only problem was the logo on the breast of his jacket. He took it off and held the jacket up, seeing the damage from the fire for the first time. The fire-retardant material was scorched black and he was able to brush parts of it away, revealing the lining. But it was all he had and he put it back on, zipping it up against the harsh wind. A fistful of mud obscured the insignia and he washed his hand in a puddle of water. After five minutes, he crested a hill and began to curse loudly. No wonder he hadn't met anyone yet. He was on an island. And worse, it was a small island. Turning in a slow circle, he saw water all around him, and no land in the distance.

"That could mean anything." He muttered to himself, scrubbing his hands through his hair, staring at the horizon. "This hill isn't very tall. The coastline could be ten miles away…which doesn't do me much good anyhow."

The sun briefly came out from behind a cloud and he squinted as something in the distance twinkled. It could be anything but he began to walk down the other side of the only hill towards it.

As he approached, he realised that it was a small tin roofed shack, more than likely a shepherd's hut, he heard a noise coming from behind him and realised that he was being followed. Turning slowly, he held his hands up to show he was weaponless and smiled with sudden relief, breaking out into a loud chuckle. In front of him was a single jet black goat, looking at him curiously. It was small, and in height didn't even half way up his shin, but it trotted up to him expectantly and bleated. Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, he let his hands fall and smiled again as the creature braced itself on his leg and butted his hand, baaing again.

"Hi there…little missy. Where'd you come out of?" He murmured, going down on his haunches and scratching the nanny goat's forehead. She closed her eyes in pleasure but baa'd again in protest when he straightened and walked on down the road.

It was difficult to open the door, his ribs, shoulder and the thumping pain in his head not helping, but he finally managed to stagger inside. At least it was shelter. And definitely abandoned from the musty smell and the sell by dates on some of the tins of food stacked on the shelves. Amazingly enough, though, it had a carpeted floor and a bed in the corner. With blankets. And there was a stove!

Five minutes of searching located a pile of driftwood and the hut's previous occupant. Stumbling across him, Alan had promptly thrown up the last of the contents in his stomach and wiped his face with a shaking hand, staring at the skeletal remains still dressed in the clothes he had died in.

"Rest in Peace." Alan murmured, finding a piece of tarpaulin and covering the remains with it. He knelt beside it for a few moments, silently praying for the man's soul and then retreated back to the hut as the sky opened and sheets of rain began to fall once more, the wind picking up and the waves crashing against the shore with vengence. The eye of the hurricane had passed.

Wedging the door shut, he realised that the goat had followed him inside and was staring at him expectantly, chewing the cud.

"Well, you and I had best get acquainted while we stay at Chez Dead Man. I'm Alan. What's your name?"

The goat baa'd once more and Alan quirked a smile as he filled the wood stove and lit a match. "How about I call you Kimi?" The goat blinked and Alan nodded. "Kimi it is. Well, Kimi, I've gotten myself in a bit of trouble here, and I'm really very tired, so I hope you don't mind but I'm going to hit the sack. Or the bed, anyway." He staggered to the bed and sat down heavily, stripping off his wet clothes and boots and setting them to dry before the stove. Pulling out the drawer under the bed, he found a miraculously clean set of clothes and clambered into them, shivering. The bed clothes probably had insects in them, but at that point, Alan didn't care. His head was pounding, his ribs were killing him and his arm felt like it had been torn out of it's socket and stapled back on again. He burrowed beneath the blankets and let his eyes slide closed, not registering a weight landing on the narrow bed beside him. The goat snuggled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. This Big One was different to the old Big One, but he had scratched her nose and talked to her nicely. He'd do. She'd been alone too long.

OOOoooOOO

Inside the command tent, Jeff stalked back and forth nervously. He didn't know what to do. Every fibre in his being was yelling at him that he needed to get out there and search for his son, find him and bring him home. But his heart and head were conflicting. In the back of his mind, the facts of the situation kept going round and round. Alan couldn't survive an explosion that big, or the fall to the ocean below, let alone the hurricane that was battering the coastline. Finally, he shook his head and turned to Virgil who was keeping him company while the other two searched in TB2.

"Call off the search." His voice was flat as were his eyes and he shook his head as Virgil began to protest. "Virgil, come here." Ignoring the look that the representative from the coast guard gave him, he put his arms around his son and hugged him tightly before bringing him to the tent flap, pulling it aside. The storm raged around them as waves crashed high upon the shore, showing the violence of the elements, even though the eye of the hurricane was above them, bringing momentary peace to the skies.

"Do you honestly think he could still be alive out there? In that? After thirty eight hours in the North Sea. In a hurricane. And that's even if he survived the explosion, let alone the fall to the sea. Virgil, he's gone. Your brother is gone."

Virgil's eyes filled with tears and he shook his head again. "No, dad! This is Alan we're talking about. Not some stranger!…he's only 18!…we can't…we can't just leave him out there!"

Suddenly everyone in the room fell silent. No one had realised that they were a family, and all wondered if the other members were also related.

"He's gone, Virgil. Our boy is gone." It nearly killed Jeff to say it, and Virgil spun around to protest, only to see the look in his father's eyes. He remembered it well. The last time he'd seen it was when his father had sat himself, John and Scott down and told them that their mother was never coming back.

"No." The protest was half-hearted and Jeff's mouth quivered for a brief moment before he dragged Virgil close and buried his head in his neck.

Scott sat back in the co-pilot's seat as Gordon flexed his hands on the control stick. "I don't want to go back…" Gordon murmured finally as Scott rubbed his face tiredly.

"Not without him."

Scott couldn't reply. There wasn't really any need to. Gordon knew he felt the same. "But we have to, Gords."

"But he could still be out there! It's only been…" The red head trailed off and punched the consol angrily. "Damnit, Scott! It's Alan…how could he…I mean, he's just a kid. He's just finished school…he has his…had his whole life ahead of him…what are we going to do without him?"

Scott quickly punched the button to turn on the auto-pilot and pulled Gordon into his arms as the red-head sobbed hard. "It'll be ok…" the empty words did nothing to help either of them, but they were all Scott could think to say.

OOOoooOOO

When Alan opened his eyes again it was dark. The embers in the wood stove glowed comfortingly at him and he realised that he was finally nice and warm. And there was something lying on him.

"Howdy, Kimi." He muttered, slipping out from beneath the elderly goat. She opened an eye and seemed to glare at him before nestling into the warm space he had just vacated. Smiling, Alan pulled the blanket up over her and slowly got to his feet, holding his ribs. The pain had settled down to a dull ache if he didn't move too much, but then, the hut was so small he wasn't going to be running to get from one side to the other. Locating the lantern he had spotted during his quick search earlier, he lit it, bathing the room in a white glow while he sat, deep in thought. This was going to be interesting…or very, very boring if he couldn't work out how to get someone's attention out there. The worst of the hurricane seemed to have passed, and the wind had dropped from a howl, down to a more ear-friendly moan as it whipped around the island.

Looking out the small window he thought long and hard and took the IR pin out of his pocket. Turning it over in his hand, he found something that made him blink. A small L.E.D. A miniature tracer. He'd forgotten about Brains's newest invention and rubbed his thumb over it thoughtfully. If he had the tools, then he could fix it. Theoretically.

Ransacking the room, he finally found a set of small screwdrivers and an old newspaper dated fifteen years in he past. He turned and looked at Kimi, surprised. "How old are you?" He smiled when she didn't answer and winked. "Sorry, I forgot, you should never ask a lady her age." In the back of his mind, he knew he was acting weird about her, but he put that down to a slight concussion and pulled the chair out from the table, dumping all his tools in front of him.

OOOoooOOO

Brains watched as John walked up and down the small control room of Thunderbird 5. He'd found him doing it when he had docked TB3 twenty minutes ago, and the middle son of his employer and friend hadn't stopped pacing since.

"J-J-John, please. Sit. E-Eat something."

John shook his head, but sat anyway, taking the sandwich the scientist offered. It tasted like ash in his mouth.

"They are really calling off the search?" he asked finally. Brains nodded.

"Y-yes. Your father wants you down as soon as possible. Th-they are packing up mmmmobile ccccontrol now and wwill be heading back to the island."

John sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, grimacing. "We can't even have a funeral." He muttered, clenching his fists. "At least with mom, we had a funeral. It didn't make it any easier, but at least we could say goodbye, you know?"

Hiram Hackenbacker nodded. "I know. When Fermat's mother dddied, it helped a little…to have somewhere to visit…"

Both fell silent and nodded sagely, staring at the blinking lights and monitors. On one screen, the WWN news channel had been on non stop since _it_ had happened.

"Over to you, Clarice."

"Three days ago Hurricane Mitchell reached the British Isles causing millions of dollars of damage to utilities, uprooting trees and tossing cars around like they were tinker toys. Authorities have reported only one fatality due to the storm, but tragically, it was a member of International Rescue. I am reporting to you from the Sligochry coastline where behind me, you can see the still smoking wreckage of the Witson Oil Platform which was hit by a massive freak wave just under 2 days ago. International Rescue were contacted when it became clear that neither the Coastguard nor the Navy could get close enough to evacuate the employees stranded aboard the now volatile wreckage. They arrived in record time and began to evacuate the 58 workers as fuel lines and barrels began to rupture and catch fire. According to official sources, one IR team member was on a platform which gave way before he could get into the rescue pod. Due to the savage nature of the weather and massive updrafts caused by the fires, they were unable to return to the scene and remove him. The pipelines feeding from the oilrig ruptured, engulfing the platform in a massive fireball before they could rescue their own man. Coastguard, Navy and Army helicopters have joined the Thunderbirds in scouring the coastline and offshore waters searching for the missing man but to no avail, and as of now, the search has officially been called off.

As you can see over my left shoulder, the Mobile Command Centre belonging to International Rescue is being dismantled and any hope that the young man is alive is now well and truly gone."

Clarice blinked sorrowfully at the camera as her counterpart in the studio spoke. "Clarice what is this we are hearing that the man had family members in the IR team?"

Clarice nodded, her hand flexing on the microphone stalk. "Yes Bob, we have had some un-confirmed scuttlebutt that the Commander of this particular International Rescue team was the unnamed man's father, and that at least one of the others is his brother. But whether they are family or not, all are deep in shock at the loss of their young team mate. A press statement has been released stating that International Rescue is no longer in operation, and will be out of action for an un-confirmed amount of time."

OOOoooOOO

Alan had finally succeeded in cracking the shell of the communicator pin open and was faced with a mess of miniscule circuitry. Turning to the goat, he warned her strictly, "Do not eat any of this, or I swear I will eat you."

The goat flicked an ear lazily and put her head back down on the covers, not bothering to bleat. Stupid Big Man, like she would actually eat that when there was good grass outside.

He carefully began to check each and every connection, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he fumbled with the screwdrivers that were just slightly too big for the job. But they would have to do. They were his only hope.

OOOoooOOO

John angrily turned off the monitors, glaring at Clarice as she disappeared from the screen. His finger paused over the switch that would turn TB5 onto automatic control, reluctant to hit it. That would mean this was all real. That he was going home to say goodbye to an empty coffin. In the end, Brains flicked it for him, guiding the boy he had come to treasure as a nephew into the space shuttle.

"Cccome on, John. Yyyyour father is on his way home. Hhhhe needs you."

OOOoooOOO

Alan thumped his hand against the table. The stupid damned thing didn't work. And he was hungry and his head was still hurting and all he wanted to do was cry in frustration. Resting his head on his arms, he did just that, soaking his forearms with bitter tears. God, he didn't want to die alone here like the skeleton out there. He didn't want to live here with just an elderly goat for company either. And no one would come. It was obvious no one had visited the island in years. If they had, they would have buried the poor man. Deciding he needed a rest, he went outside into the night air, looking up at the clear skies. Wandering around the outside, he realised that there was a very overgrown vegetable patch to the side of the shed. A quick search produced some potatoes and carrots. At least he wouldn't starve for now. Walking further down the overgrown garden, he stared out at the moonlit water and began to wade through the tall grass to the beach. That was the moment when his luck began to change. He stumbled upon the boat.

It wasn't a big one, but the wood appeared sound. Putting his dinner down beside him, he began to check it carefully. There were no rotten areas. Instead, the wood seemed to have petrified, becoming rock solid. Setting the lantern on the top of the upturned boat, he began to search the long grass that had been hiding it, crowing with delight when he produced two usable oars. Putting them beside it, he sat back and leant against the hull, staring out at the now calm sea. The moon was illuminating the waves and he felt an incredible feeling of peace wash over him. If he closed his eyes and listened, he could make believe he was at home.

OOOoooOOO

Tin Tin wrapped her hand around the crystal she wore around her neck, staring out at the moonlit sea as tears streaked down her face. She was sitting on top of the cliff that had been affectionatly named 'Alan's Bluff'. It was where he went when he was angry, or upset, or just needed to be alone. They had all learned by experience not to disturb him when he was there.

Closing her eyes, she whispered his name, the sound of the waves crashing in her ears. She had lost him. They'd only just stopped the childish sniping and bickering and admitted that they really liked each other. Loved, if truth were to be told. Only four weeks ago, they had sat in this very place and exchanged promise rings, bought on the spur of the moment. The look of shock on Alan's face when he realised that they had both gone out without each other's knowledge and bought the same thing without knowing was priceless, and she had suspected at the time that the look on her face was identical. She had always thought he would be the one she married, when he stopped acting like a teenager, and more like a grown man.

"I love you, Alan." She whispered, twisting the ring around on the cord where it lay next to the crystal. She could have almost sworn she heard him answer 'I love you too, Tin Tin.'

OOOoooOOO

Alan's eyes snapped open. He could have sworn he just heard Tin Tin say she loved him. Frowning, he whispered, "I love you too, Tin Tin" and struggled to stand up, looking around.

"Great. Now I'm hallucinating. Unless it was you that said that, Kimi." The goat simply stared at him before trotting back to the hut. "I guess not. Although, come to think of it, hearing a voice that isn't there is a hell of a lot less weird than a goat talking human."

OOOoooOOO

In the dawn light, Alan put back on his uniform and boots. If he didn't make it, and if someone came across the boat and he was still on it, they might recognise who he was…at least then his family would know what had happened. He carefully shut the door of the hut and wandered down to the sandy dune where he had found the boat, the goat dogging his footsteps. Finding a metal rod, he used it to lever the boat over onto it's keel and gave a panted crow of delight when he saw what it revealed. Beneath the wood was an outboard motor and a box. And in the box…fuel. "JACKPOT!" He punched the air, groaning when his ribs protested and proceeded to drag the boat the short distance down to the shore. Halfway there, he stopped when a wave of dizziness overtook him and he fell to his knees, putting his hand to his head. He was feeling worse every hour and he knew he had to get help and soon. His vision had started going blurry when he had been attempting to put the communicator back together. He managed to get the boat over the dune and down half way to the sea before the pain forced him to drop the end, panting heavily. Realising he couldn't move it any further he sat on the edge and slid down until he was lying on the inside, deciding to wait for the tide to come back in and lift it from the beach.

There was a clattering of hooves against wood and Kimi managed to jump over the high side, narrowly missing his head.

"So, you want to come with?" He asked, scratching her nose. She bleated and licked his face, collapsing down to cuddle up to his torso. He was beginning to get pretty fond of the goat. She was an affectionate little thing, which was surprising considering the amount of time she'd been alone. Unless there had been more goats. The sun came out from behind a cloud and shone down on him, making him sleepy.

He only woke up when the boat began to float, the tide having finally reached him. Sitting up, he groaned and gently moved the goat's head off of his chest. The fuel can had been full and hopefully well sealed and he looked at the starter cord lying in his hand. He'd started an engine like that before…it took a lot of energy and movement, something he wasn't sure he could do in his current condition. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the cord experimentally. The engine barely coughed and his entire left side felt like it was on fire. Biting back a whimper, he rested his head against the motor casing, his body screaming that he was _never_ to do that again. But there was no other way to do it. Lifting his head, he blinked back the tears, took a deep breath and pulled once more, crying out as another stab of agony shot through him. But it was worth it. The motor coughed once and jumped to life, making Kimi jump and bleat nervously. Pulling her towards him, he patted her with one hand, using the other to steer the boat out past the breakwaters and straight ahead.

Two hours later, the engine stalled in the middle of nowhere, bobbing up and down in the waves, no land in sight.

"Damn. Sorry, Kim-Kim, but it looks like we are now well and truly screwed." He muttered, sitting down on the plank that served as a seat. Six tries had failed to start it again and he couldn't face trying to start it one more time.

OOOoooOOO

Matt Wilson stared out of the side of the rescue chopper as it sped across the water, on its way back to base. The missing boat had been located by a trawler off the coast of Norway and the sailors had been taken aboard.

Suddenly, he saw something strange out of the corner of his eye and reached back to touch the arm of the pilot. "Circle around Dave. I think I saw something back there. I want to see what it was."

The pilot nodded and steered the large helicopter around, looking down into the water as the other team members scanned the horizon.

"There!" As he shouted, the others spotted what had caught his eye and automatically began to get ready. It was definitely a small row boat, though what it was doing that far from shore was anybody's guess. As they got closer and hovered over the small craft, Matt blinked and had to take a second look.

"Is that a _Goat_?" He asked finally as the winchman prepared to lower John Cooper over the side with the rescue basket. Both men looked down and shrugged. A goat was unusual to be rescuing from a boat, but not unheard of.

"Don't know, Matt, but there's a body in the boat. Lower away Jimmy."

Setting his feet inside the boat, John started as the kid's eyes flicked open and fixed on his. The boy laboriously sat up and flashed a pain-filled but grateful grin.

"Thought I was never gonna get off this thing." He muttered, absently scratching the top of the goat's head. John's head registered that the boy had an American accent but he set it aside, preparing the rescue basket.

"What's a yank like you doing out in the North Sea on your own, with a goat?" He paused in his work and stared at the boy again.

"I went for an unscheduled swim in the middle of the hurricane. I wouldn't recommend it as a vacation activity."

John's eyes narrowed, but he let the goat hop into the basket beside the boy and indicated that they were ready to be winched up.

Matt had switched places with one of the others in the back and helped drag the basket inside, quickly wrapping a foil thermal blanket around his shoulders.

"I'm ok. Well, I'm not wet or hypothermic any more." Alan murmured as the uniform jacket was torn off without ceremony and tossed in a corner. "I got a pretty nasty knock on the head, my shoulder…is not good. Bruised ribs…at least, I don't think any of them are broken."

"Your back is burned." Jonquil, the medic, muttered, taking out his stethescope and listening carefully to his lungs. "No water in the lungs from what I can tell…how long have you been in the water?"

Alan shrugged. "Since this morning? About five or six hours. The day before yesterday, I honestly couldn't tell you. I was unconscious, but for some reason, I didn't drown. I washed up on the beach of a small island…it was deserted except for the goat and the body of it's previous owner. The guy was well dead, too." He bit back a yawn and his eyes closed slightly more.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride, kid." John helped him lie down and tucked the blanket tighter around him. "We've got a bit of a ways to go yet."

OOOoooOOO

When Alan woke up again, it was to the sound of Kimi bleating furiously. He opened his eyes and sat up sharply, hissing in a breath as his entire body protested.

"Damned Goat!" Someone behind him hissed and Alan turned cautiously, minding his ribs.

"Give me her. She doesn't want to be parted from me."

"You can't take her to a hospital!" John protested.

"You can't take me to a hospital!" Alan protested right back, snatching the goat from his arms. "If anyone sees my face-"

"You have a concussion." Jonquil snapped, reaching to take back the goat. "You have to go to hospital. I don't care what-…" He paused and frowned. "Why do you not want anyone to see your face?"

"I'm in the 'rescue' business myself." Alan muttered, awkwardly shifting on the gurney he had been placed on. "I got separated from my team during a mission…it's important that I don't get recognised or my face plastered over the news…it could endanger a lot of lives, my own included. Listen, I'm really fine. My head feels a hell of a lot better, and I know what broken ribs feel like and I assure you, I don't have them. They may be fractured slightly, but since I'm not planning on going bungee jumping any time soon that shouldn't be a problem. I need to leave…I promise you, I'm not one for taking risks with my health…but there's a hell of a lot more at stake here than me seeing a doctor."

John and Jonquil shared a long look, ignoring the pleading looks the boy was giving them. John looked down at the fabric in his hand and finally saw the half-obscured logo.

"Matt, could you come here for a minute?" He called out finally, beckoning their commander over. Matt finished his checks on the chopper and hurried over.

"What's the problem."

In answer, John held up the logo and pointed to the boy. "He's not going to hospital."

"Hang on!" Jonquil protested, slamming his hand down on the padded gurney, "I never agreed."

"Agreed or no, he's not going. Either we help him, or he probably vanishes two minutes after he steps foot inside the hospital." John protested right back. "Do you have any ideas?"

Alan sat up gingerly, swinging his legs over the side. "If you could find me something to carry Kimi in, and get me some different clothes, I'll slip out unnoticed." He said decidedly. "I'll take it from there."

Matt took a moment to take it all in, and nodded. "Ok. Johnny, go out to my car, Esme's dog-carrier is in the boot. I was supposed to pick the hellion up from the vet's this evening in it. I'll tell her it broke or something. Jonquil, see if any of the lads have any gear that would fit him…"

"I have a better idea. The nearest supermarket is about five minutes away. I'll get you some new gear there. None of the lads are anywhere near his size. He's too tall and too skinny." Jonquil finally gave in and hurried off to buy clothes for the kid. He came back in twenty minutes with jeans, a jumper and a hoodie, and swept into Matt's office where Alan was sitting on a stool, checking on Kimi in her box. "Best I could do." He thrust them at the boy and began to do a check on his reflexes again. "I'm not sending you out unless I'm 100 percent sure you can make it on your own." He muttered, shining a pen light in the boy's eyes.

"I wouldn't expect you to do it any other way."

"I owe you guys so much." He murmured finally, accepting the one-way train ticket to London that John thrust into his hand.

"Nonsense. We all owe your lot so much. One of our choppers went down about three years ago…your guys found our men alive when we'd given up hope."

Alan smiled wryly and shook his hand firmly. "As my grandma would say, 'turn and turn about'. We'll see each other again, I have no doubt."

With that, he turned and walked slowly through the barriers into the train station, goat-filled dog carrier at his side.

OOOoooOOO

Some of the passengers gave him a strange look when they heard the bleats coming from the dog-carrier, but Alan smiled indulgently and stuck his fingers through the bars that constituted the door of the kennel box and stroked Kimi's nose.

"Is that a goat?" The suited woman beside him asked finally.

Alan nodded. "Yeah. Her name is Kimi. She's a bit of an old timer, but she's as sweet as anything. Her old owner died a while ago, and she was left on her own for a long time before anyone found him. I'm taking her home with me so she's not alone any more. I'd hate to see her abandoned on some farm somewhere with someone who isn't going to give her the attention she used to get."

The woman shifted away slightly as he opened the door to give Kimi some water, but when she saw the petite face poke out into the light she smiled.

"Oh, she is adorable. How old did you say she was?"

Alan shrugged. "I'm not sure. More than 10 years, anyhow."

Eight hours later, he woke up to realise they were just pulling into Victoria Station in London, and the sun was beginning to come up. He was practically alone in the carriage and he hurried off the train when it stopped.

Checking his pocket, he realised he had just enough money to either eat, or catch a cab to Tracy Industries London HQ.

Even though his stomach was growling, he hurriedly flagged down a cab and within ten minutes found himself standing outside the large ornate doors to his father's office building.

Smiling at the security guard who was staring at him, he hurriedly pressed his thumb to the scanner and rushed inside, not waiting for the man to stop him and detain him for questioning. The place inside was deserted, it being only half 7 in the morning, and he gratefully ducked into the elevator that would bring him straight up to the little used office that belonged to his father. Once more, he used the thumb scanner and only relaxed when the doors shut firmly behind him, sealing him inside the plush office.

"Out you get." He murmured to Kimi, opening the door of the cage and letting her sniff around the room. He had only ever been in this particular office once, when he was 11, and even though the layout's of his father's offices were mostly the same, he spent another twenty minutes locating the right switches for the vid-screen. Only to find that no one at the island was answering.

Growling, he tried Penny's communicator, only to find that that was switched off too.

"Fermat." He muttered finally, locating his friends cell phone. "Oh, come on!" he punched the table top when it went straight through to the message minder. One by one, he tried everyone's cellphone, to find that they were all switched off.

Grumbling, he opened all the drawers in his father's desk and finally located a credit card and a spare phone. A large hidden panel on the wall swung open to reveal six IR jump suits and helmets, and a shelf on the side held id's for both him and his brothers, just in case their old one's were stolen or they were here on unofficial business…mainly for just this sort of situation. Stuffing them in his pocket, he tied Kimi to a table leg, giving her enough leeway to move about and hurried back down to the street.

"Sir-" The security guard had been waiting for him, and blocked his exit.

"How can I help you?" Alan asked nonchalantly.

"Can I ask what you were doing inside the building?" The burly man in black asked, crossing his arms firmly across his chest.

"My name is Alan Tracy." He pointed up at the sign over the door and handed him his id card. "As in, the boss's son. I'm here on business for him. He needed some information sent to him urgently. I was in the area…I'll be back in soon, I think. I've had to leave my pet up in his office."

The security guard examined the id closely and nodded. "Sorry to have troubled you." He muttered finally, handing it back and stepping away.

"No problem. It's good that you did. I'd have been worried if you didn't." Alan flashed him one of his trademark smiles and walked down the street, the weight sitting on his shoulders lifting slightly. Obviously Alan Tracy had not been declared dead yet, even if his counterpart, Alan the International Rescue Agent had. He found a sandwich shop and ate hungrily, and was just licking the last of the mayonnaise off his thumb when the TV was turned on, showing the News Channel.

"This is Clarice Richards for WWN, here at Westminster, where the city is preparing for a memorial service in honour of the Fallen Hero, the International Rescue Operative who was killed during the Wiston Oil Platform explosion. The young man has been confirmed as being the first IR Operative to have lost his life in the line of duty and is being honoured for his part in rescuing the 53 men and women working aboard the oil platform at the time of the incident. Today, hundreds will gather in Jubilee Gardens to watch as the International Rescue Group that were involved in the rescue attend the memorial service that will be attended by both the King and the Prime Minister. Also attending will be various-"

Alan switched off his hearing, concentrating on what he'd just been told. That would explain why no one was answering…

OOOoooOOO

A nerve worked in Jeff's jaw. He wanted nothing more than to go home and shut himself up in his suite back on the island for a month. Just sit in the darkness and cry. But he couldn't. He had to show face for International Rescue, to accept the gratitude that the people were showing…their grief that someone so important had died.

"You alright dad?" Jeff turned and looked down, seeing only the shiny visor that obscured Scott's face.

"I'm ok, Scott. How are you holding up?" He put his arm on his eldest's shoulder comfortingly.

"I just wish I could go home, you know? Hide until this is all over."

Jeff nodded, his face unreadable behind his own visor. "I understand, son."

Scott could hear the tremble in his father's voice and gripped his arm tightly. "It's ok to let it show, dad. No one would think any worse of you for it. You are allowed to grieve. You've been so strong for us over the last few days…"

Jeff found himself giving a trembling smile. "I could say the same to you, son. You are holding all of us up right now. I'm so proud of you."

Scott's cheeks burned behind his visor. "I guess concentrating on helping you guys is keeping me from thinking too much."

Jeff nodded and walked over to where the rest of his sons were standing. Beside them, Tin Tin, Fermat and Brains were all standing wearing identical uniforms, but with no colour stripes.

Scott went to follow but a touch on his elbow caught his attention.

"Excuse me…sir, but there's a man at the entrance of the park demanding to speak to you."

Scott looked at him with little patience. "So? Send him away."

"The only thing is, sir, is that he is wearing a uniform just like yours…exactly like yours, if you understand. He's even got the pin…and a goat." The young policeman tried not to blanch as both impenetrable visors turned to stare at him.

"Exactly like mine?" Scott stepped forwards and grabbed the man's arm tightly, squeezing.

"Identical. He gave this to me to give you." The man held up Alan's pin, making Scott suck in a breath.

"Bring me to him. Now!"

Both men ran side by side to the staff entrance, where Alan was standing in a shadow, trying to look inconspicuous in his uniform.

"Alan?" Scott shouted out, sliding to a stop on the gravel, only to have Alan throw himself into his big brother's arms.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Alan whispered, hugging him tightly.

"You are alive…" Scott whispered, pulling back and lifting his visor so he could see his brother's face. Alan mimicked the movement, and butted the forehead of the helmet against his brothers, so that no one else could see their faces.

"Come on." Scott grabbed his brother's arm, luckily taking him by the left arm, not the right and pulled him inside, past the astonished cop.

"COMMANDER!" Scott shouted as they neared the stage where everyone was getting ready for the ceremony. All forgot the cameras trained on them, and Jeff took a step forwards, confused as to what was happening.

"Scott?"

"Sir, it's Alan. He's..." He pushed his brother forwards into his father's arms, and Jeff mimicked their earlier actions by lifting his visor as Alan did the same. He faltered when he realised he was staring into bright blue orbs that reminded him so much of his dear Lucy.

"Alan…" He whispered, enfolding his baby in a bone crushing hug. Alan felt his legs buckle under the pain, and he wriggled uncomfortably.

"Dad…love you and all…but I'm inured…" He grated out, bracing his hands against his father's arms.

"How badly?" Jeff pushed him backwards and began tugging at the zip of the jump suit.

"Not too bad…dad…stop…dad! DAD!" He fended off his father's attempts to strip him in front of everyone, "Dad, we're in front of a live audience!" He hissed.

Jeff froze and let his hand drop, only to nearly be shouldered aside as John, Virgil and Gordon all converged on them at the same time.

"Where The Hell Have You Been!" Gordon shouted, shaking him slightly, but there was a grin on his face as he tore his brother towards him, hugging him.

"Yeah, Sprout, what gives?" Virgil added, pushing him slightly before taking Gordon's place. John patiently waited his turn, but his hug was no less fierce.

"Welcome back, Sprout." He whispered, clapping him on the back. Something snapped, and Alan went grey behind his visor.

"John…" He whispered, trying to keep the bile from reaching his mouth.

"What is it?" John asked as Alan gripped the front of his uniform.

"You just broke my ribs…" He could feel the greyness crowding around the edge of his vision, and dropped to his knees.

Dimly, he could hear voices starting to panic around him, but concentrated just on keeping conscious and not screaming out from the pain.

OOOoooOOO

John sat awkwardly in the private waiting room at the Queen Elizabeth II Memorial Hospital.

"I can't believe I broke his ribs." He muttered finally, rubbing his hands together as he shook his head.

"They were already fractured, bro. Don't beat yourself up about it." Gordon yawned, picking up a magazine, rolling it up and tapping it against his thigh.

"Yeah…but he's like, back from the dead less than five minutes and I put him in hospital."

Virgil chuckled from the doorway, where he was leaning against the frame watching his little brother beat himself up. "He should have been in hospital in the first place, John-o. I've just been talking to the doctor and dad. Alan has a skull fracture, broken ribs – yes, some of 'em were broken by you, but there were at least three you couldn't have done by yourself. His shoulder was dislocated, the rotator cuff is basically screwed for now and the socket is fractured – he must 've hit the deck of the rig with one hell of a lot of force. They're just looking at his burns now."

"Burns?" Gordon's eyebrows shot up. "They bad?"

Virgil shook his head. "Not too bad. Scottie got worse that time in Malawi when the generator blew."

Both younger Tracy's relaxed. That wasn't too bad. It was doable. "And what about the skull fracture?" John asked finally, grabbing the magazine from Gordon, stopping the tapping.

"Not too bad. Again, it's a skull fracture, so that's not good, but there was minimal swelling, which has mostly gone down. Where's Tin Tin and Fermat?"

Gordon snorted. "Taking Kimi for a walk."

It was Virgil's turn to frown. "Who is Kimi?"

"Kimi, is what Alan found on the island." John replied, tugging him over to the window. Far below them, Tin Tin was holding the leash of what looked like a tiny black dog.

"He found a dog?"

"No. He found a goat. A pygmy goat called Kimi who is approximately 14 years old according to the vet that looked at her. Alan wants to bring her back to the island."

OOOoooOOO

Alan relaxed in the hospital bed, relishing the softness of the pillows and the nice pain killers. He hadn't realised how much pain he had been in until it had been taken away.

"How are you doing?" Jeff murmured, seeing his son's eyes were finally open.

Alan smiled when he saw his dad. "Fine. Just fine. Painkillers are wonderful."

Jeff snorted and sat on the side of the bed, taking the free hand in his own.

"I thought I'd lost you." He whispered finally.

"I thought I'd lost me too." Alan admitted, his smile fading slightly. "When I saw the fireball…" He shrugged with one shoulder and picked at the hem on his father's shirt. "And again just before I landed in the wave…and when the motor died on the boat. And I'll admit, when I saw Kimi's previous owner, I was a bit…nervous. The uh…skeleton had been there a while…I knew if I didn't get off the island soon, no one would find me."

"That's why you took the boat." Alan nodded, shifting up in the bed.

"Yup. Kimi decided she wanted to come with. Oh, by the way dad, can you send something up to the Balmedie Coastguard Helicopter group. I owe them big-time. And I owe them money too, for clothes and a train ticket and food."

Jeff smiled and nodded. "Done. Any idea on what we could get them as thanks?"

Alan grinned and nodded. "Yeah. I do…what's the price limit."

Jeff shook his head. "There is none. They brought you back to me. That's priceless." He gripped his son's hand tightly and kissed him on the forehead.

Matt yawned as he walked into the station, dropping his bag on one of the tables in his office.

"Uh…Matt…you gotta come see this." John poked his head inside the office and beckoned him forwards.

Matt followed his 2IC into the break room, and his jaw dropped. The ancient, battered brown couches had been replaced with leather recliner sofas and armchairs. A state of the art sound system with a wide screen tv covered one wall, and in the corner were games machines, pool tables…a vending machine…and so much more. "Wha…what?"

John handed him the card. "The crash pad's been done up too. Proper beds – the cots are gone. Each area has it's own little space marked off…proper mattresses…the works. I came in this morning and found it like this. The night watchman said that he knew nothing about it, but he had a huge grin on his face. And no one was here over the weekend, because the Aberdeen station was handling things while we were stood down. But there was this, and it is, technically, addressed to you, so open it!"

Matt sat down on one of the plush leather couches and ripped open the large envelope. Quickly scanning one of the pages, he started laughing and looked at the photographs in his hand.

"Well?" John demanded finally.

"It's a thank you. It's all a thank you. From International Rescue. Look."

He handed him the photos with a grin. One was what looked like the entire group, all dressed in their uniforms and helmets, looking very official with Thunderbirds 1 and 2 behind them. The second was one was a man on his own, crouched down with his hand on the collar of a small black goat. Looking back at the first photo, he realised that two of the IR operatives had their arms around each other, and one of the two was definitely female. And between them, stood a small black goat.

When everyone had arrived and had marvelled about the change in their break room and 'crash room', he sat them all down, hopping up onto the new pool table.

"Ok, I'm sure you all are wondering what happened this weekend. Well…something happened a fortnight ago that you were all a part of, but we didn't tell you because it is, technically, top secret. And it needs to stay that way. What is said right now, in this room, stays here. Right?" Everyone nodded, intrigued. "I'm sure you all remember picking up the boy with the goat just after the hurricane?"

Everyone nodded, sitting back and getting comfortable. "Well, he was the missing International Rescue Operative."

The room exploded in excited murmurs, which died down when Matt held up his hand for quiet.

"As thanks, they organised for all this to be done. And they also wrote thank you notes which I would like to read out to you all. The first, is from the Commander."

To the members of the Balmedie Coastguard Group: 

Many, many years ago, my family was involved in a terrible accident, in which I lost a huge part of my heart and my soul. My wife. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that our children were there to remind me of what I had lost. My youngest son is the spitting image of my wife, both in looks, and in temperament and 2 weeks ago, I thought I had lost him forever. In a way, it was like losing my wife all over again and I was afraid that I would never be able to recover from it. No parent should ever have to bury a child, and I did not even have something to bury.

But you have stopped me from having to do that. You have given me back part of my soul once more. You have my eternal thanks and gratitude. Words will never, and can never express my thanks, and the love and respect I hold for you in my heart. You have given me back my child.

With Thanks,

IR OP1.

There was a quiet snuffle from Eileen as she dabbed at her eyes and gave a watery smile. "Go on, Matt." She whispered in her soft Scottish brogue.

To the members of the Balmedie Coastguard Group:

Thanks for giving me my little brother back. He's the only little brother I have, and I don't think I could face becoming the baby of the family, or of the group. To make it worse, I'd have had no one to blame pranks on, no one to help me plan tricks…life would have been dull, y'know?

I'm afraid that I'm not really good with words. I'm more of an action guy, so I can't really say what I mean here…so…thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…I guess you get the message.

Muchos Gracias.

IR OP5

To the members of the Balmedie Coastguard Group:

Alan is my baby brother. I remember him when he was just a newborn, lying in his cot with a beautiful head of blonde hair and the bluest eyes you've ever seen. Reading my father's letter to you, I understand that he has mentioned that we lost our mother a long time ago. Alan was only a tiny kid when she died, and he lost out on a lot because of it. But one thing he did not lose out on was love. We all love him to the very bottom of our hearts, no matter how many pranks he and our brother play on us. I remember sitting beside him in hospital after our mother died, looking at his tiny body covered in sensors and bandages, and hearing him crying out for her. And I remember swearing to him and our mother that I would never let him get hurt again. That I would take care of him. I have tried my best over the years, but of course, in our business, I can't guarantee that 24/7. He's a grown man now, and I have to let him stand on his own two feet.

Two weeks ago, I thought I had failed in my promise…in my duty to him and to our mother. I had to stand helplessly on the shore as I heard his last words…and watched the fireball engulf where he had been standing. I thought I had lost him.

And then you brought him back to me. You brought me back my Allie. I can never tell you how much that means to me.

God bless you all

IR OP2

To the members of the Balmedie Coastguard Group:

Thank you for giving me my best friend back.

Yours sincerely,

IR OP F

To the members of the Balmedie Coastguard Group:

Thank you for giving me back my boyfriend, friend, boyfriend. I'm so not good at this. But either way, he means so much to me. Thank you.

Terima Kasih,

TB OP TT

There was a quiet snicker when Matt explained that boyfriend and friend had been crossed out.

To the members of the Balmedie Coastguard Group:

A long time ago, we both swore that if Alan was ever to leave this world, it would be at our hands. Of course, at the time, he had covered one of us in glue and glitter and the other was glued with extra-strength epoxy to a toilet seat. On our space station.

Thanks to you, you have given us the chance to make good on that promise. Of course, we'll probably wait until we're in our late 70's to do it, but at least by then, we will have had the chance to have had at least one shot at payback

But seriously, thank you. Thank you for making our family whole once more. We hope that the small additions to your break room and crash pad will help indicate just how much that your work means to us. You all stayed during the hurricane and looked for him, instead of returning to the safety of your base like you were ordered to, and that alone means everything to us. The fact that you then managed to bring him home…words cannot say how thankful we are.

Long life and health to you all,

TB OPs 3&4

Hi guys,

You know, lying in that boat, I thought I was a gonner. Hell, I thought that quite a lot over those three days. But then I heard something on the edge of my senses. For a few seconds, I thought I was going crazy, until that big beautiful orange craft of yours appeared over my head and an angel descended on the end of a rope.

I don't think you will ever understand what joy the sound of a helicopters blades can bring when you think that your last breath will be taken alone, in a small boat with only a goat as company. I can tell you, it's a pretty sweet sound.

So thank you. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart.

With unending thanks & appreciation,

Alan - IR OP 6 & Kimi the Goat.

PS.

The goat says hi too. 

OOOoooOOO

Alan limped across the parking lot, his peaked cap tugged down low, sunglasses and a cane completing his ensemble. He paused before he reached the door, catching his breath. He had spent the last two weeks convalescing at Penny's Manor, and had persuaded Parker to allow him to take one of the less…pink…cars to go on a trip. He knew Parker guessed where his journey would take him, but the rest remained blissfully ignorant, and hopefully, would remain so.

"Can I help you?" The woman at the reception desk asked brightly, absently tugging down her dark blue uniform jumper.

"Hi…I was wondering if Matt Cooper is around? I mean…not busy…uh…if I could have a word with him?" Alan stuttered, suddenly nervous.

The woman nodded and still keeping an eye on him, opened the door to the back rooms and yelled out Matt's name.

Two minutes later, the balding, well-muscled Scotsman ambled out into the foyer and eyed him up and down.

"Can I help you?" He asked carefully. Alan smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. Can I have a word with you? In private, I mean…?"

"Come into my office." Matt nodded and held the door open for him, watching his slow progress with the cane. "What happened?"

Alan paused at the door to the small room and shrugged. "Long story. Can you close the door?"

Matt was now intrigued, and shut the door firmly behind him, taking a seat behind his own desk. "Now that we are in private, what can I do for you?"

Alan smiled and took out an envelope, handing it to him. "I owe you a hundred and fifty pounds. And I owe Jonquil for the clothes."

Matt only had to think for a split second before he began to laugh softly. "Thanks. I've been worried about you. We all have. I'm glad to see you are up and about. Were you badly injured?"

Alan shrugged again, wiggling his fingers that poked out of the sling. "Bad enough I'm afraid. Some burns from the rig, rotator cuff is screwed for a while, so is the joint."

"You weren't limping before." Matt finally realised what had been bothering him since he realised who the kid sitting in front of him was.

Alan blushed brightly and rubbed his hand under the cap before tugging it back down again. "Uh…that was an accident last week. The goat…she likes to stay underfoot…I was coming down the stairs…" He blew out a frustrated breath. "Let's just say I was lucky I didn't break my neck."

Matt shook his head again and stood. "I take it you'd like to see the rest of the team?"

Alan nodded with a smile stood again. "Yeah. Did ye like the thank you?"

Matt grinned. "You can't get Eileen off the Street Fighter video game, thanks."

Alan followed him out of the room, albeit at a slower pace, and stayed in the background as he used an intercom system to call all members of his team to the floor. Matt waited until the last one trotted in and locked the doors behind them, pulling down the shutters and closing the blinds.

"Gentlemen and Eileen, we have a visitor today. He has travelled a long way to speak to you all. Alan-." He stood back and gestured to Alan, who sheepishly took a few hesitant steps forwards and smiled.

"Many of you don't know who I am…most of you don't know who I am, but a few weeks ago, you picked me up from a small boat in the middle of the North Sea about three hours after I'd given up any hope of being found. I'll be honest, I didn't think I'd get to see my family again. You all gave me back my life…I just want to thank you. From the bottom of my heart."

He looked down at the ground, unable to meet their eyes until finally, Jonquil piped up "Where's that 70 quid you owe me, Yank!"

Alan burst out laughing and fished in his jacket, retrieving an envelope and throwing it at the French man. "There you money grubbing Frenchie! Happy?"

Jonquil caught it one handed and nodded with a laugh. "Oui. I am now that I see you alive and well. I thought we'd be hearing about you on the news the next day. American found dead on train with a goat as his only companion."


End file.
